


Umbra

by dontwaitupxx



Series: In the Shadow of the Moon [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Constellations, F/M, Heartbreak, Memory Loss, Nightmares, Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24831601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontwaitupxx/pseuds/dontwaitupxx
Summary: After facing a demon, when does the nightmare end? She remembers, but he doesn't know how to. Here, they lay, under the stars, two souls from two different worlds, trying to pick up the pieces to something long since broken.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Series: In the Shadow of the Moon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820473
Comments: 18
Kudos: 65





	Umbra

_Umbra: (noun) the fully shaded inner region of a shadow cast by an opaque object, especially the area on the earth or moon experiencing the total phase of an eclipse._

* * *

It's a cool, autumn evening in their little town of Hateno. It's quiet, the village blanketed in the soft glow from the evening stars, the gentle sway of the breeze coming in from the peaks of Mount Lanayru.

And Link bolts up in bed, gasping for breath.

Zelda's immediately awake, because she's gotten used to this. In the time since they defeated the Calamity, her demons had come and gone, but Link's were there to stay. Like clockwork, her hand instantly makes it to his back, rubbing between his shoulder blades where she knows they're tense with fear. His eyes are wide, staring off at some point across their tiny loft, and his knuckles are white, gripping their bed sheets like a lifeline.

He doesn't speak and Zelda doesn't push him. She knows he won't speak, even if he knew what to say. It's become enough of a normal occurrence that she's horrified to say she's used to it. Still, she slides closer to him to wrap her arms around his back, digging her face into his shoulder. She can feel his heartbeat, thumping erratically against his chest, and whether he realizes it or not, he begins to match his breath with hers.

She doesn't know what he dreams of, still. Whenever she asks, he looks away, his lips tight, and she's scarce to get another word out of him until morning.

This has been going on for some time, and she feels him drifting further and further away from her. With every day that passes, Link becomes an umbra of his former self. He smiles less, he talks less, and he looks at her – really looks at her – less.

That last part is what really shatters Zelda.

But she continues to smile, she continues to talk to him, and she continues to look at him – really look at him – even if he won't. Because if there's one thing she knows about an umbra, is that it's always temporary.

At least, she hopes so.

She would be lying though, if she said she hadn't thought about leaving.

Link sighs, minutes later. His fists have relaxed against their bed sheets, his heartbeat has slowed, and his breath has matched hers. Gingerly, he takes her hands and peels them from his chest, moving her onto her side of the bed, looking towards her but never really _at_ her.

"I'm okay," he mutters, lowering himself back to bed, "Go to sleep, Zel. Sorry I woke you."

"It's okay," she whispers, feeling her heart splinter at his words but pushing through it. She knows that he will lie there, staring up at the ceiling until the twilight is painted in deep oranges and dewy yellows. She knows that he won't get any more sleep tonight. She knows because she has spent countless nights next to him, waiting for his breath to even out only for the sun to beat them to morning.

She wishes she knew how to help him. She's spent countless afternoons at the tech lab up the hill with Purah, searching for some miracle cure to rid him of his nightmares. She's confided with Purah, and even the little genius was at a loss for what to do. She's urged him to speak with her – or someone, _anyone_ – but is always met with deafening silence.

For someone who was able to fight a demon for a century, she feels like she should be able to do _something._

Yet still, she knows it isn't her fight to fight. But that doesn't mean that she should be entirely helpless.

She knows that, she too, won't get another wink of sleep tonight. She knows it's not Link's fault, his nightmares, but she would be lying if she said that his dreams weren't taking a toll on her too.

It's not just his dreams, of course. It's the way he looks at her, but doesn't see her – the way he's here, with her, but isn't.

She never seems to be able to do enough.

He remembers scarcely anything from his life before the shrine, and she tries not to take it too personally when he isn't the man she fell in love with. But he isn't – he's nowhere close, and all she wants is to be able to give him his memories back.

Of course, that's not to say that's what _he_ wants. But how would she know? He won't talk about it.

Then, abruptly, Link swings his legs out of their bed, his long strides taking him downstairs. He begins to lace up his boots – the sounds drifting up towards her ears – and she thinks to herself that he must be heading out back to the wash closet. She lies there, listening for the sounds of him walking around their house closest to their bedroom window. Sometimes, she can even see the very top of his head from the window as he makes his way around back.

Yet, she never hears him.

She closes her eyes, thinking he must have been quiet, but as seconds turn to minutes and minutes turn to a quarter of an hour, she realizes she hasn't heard him one bit, and he hasn't returned. Her eyebrows furrow, as she slowly lifts herself up onto her arms. Did he go out on a walk? Go out on a hunt? Go to chop some firewood? All were entirely possible but all seemed very much out of the norm for Link.

She sighs, throwing her legs over the side of the bed. She shuffles her feet into her slippers and tugs her robe around her, pushing her sleepy hair out from around her face. She descends down the stairs, unconsciously side stepping the third step to avoid the squeak in the floorboard. She peers around the corner, to their pantry under the stairs. She sees Link's pack and gear lying on the floor just next to it. He wouldn't have gone far without it, she reasons.

She opens the door outside, shuddering at the cool breeze coming in from the mountains. It's dark out tonight – almost pitch black – and as she looks up, she sees that it was a new moon that night. The stars glisten just overhead, twinkling gloriously without their competition. She pokes her head around the corner, towards their little garden, and even in the darkness of night, she can tell that he isn't over there.

Where did he go?

"Link," Zelda hisses into the night. She isn't sure why she is so quiet – they live on the outskirts of Hateno Village, with the closest neighbors across the bridge from them.

"Zel," she gasps, startled, hearing his voice from _above_ her, "I'm up here, don't worry. Go back to sleep."

She steps out into the night, raising her head towards the roof, and sure enough, sees a patch of blonde hair shining almost silver in the starlight, "Link, what are you doing up there?"

"Can't sleep," is all she gets in reply, before he lowers his head back to the roof and disappears into the shadows.

"How did you even get up there?" She asks, running her hand through her hair as the wind bites at her robe.

"I climbed," he replies, before leaving her with silence once again. She heaves out a sigh, looking around their tiny home. She hadn't heard him on the side closest to their bedroom window, but perhaps he had climbed up on the other side.

She knows that her Hero likes to climb anything he could stick his little nimble fingers into, but she likes to think he at least practices caution when climbing onto the roof of their _house._

She shakes her head, coming along the left side of their house to see the small roof over their firewood. From there, it is just a quick jump up to the main stretch of their roof. She gathers the skirt of her nightgown in her hands, before stumbling onto the first roof. From there, it is just a quick, graceless scramble to the main part of the roof, and she has to say, she is quite pleased with herself.

She looks over to him, her eyes adjusting to the dark. He has his head lifted towards her, and can make out the faint twinge of a smirk on his face. Other than that, he doesn't move. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to understand how you find a roof more comfortable than our bed," she replies, lowering herself next to him and tucking herself under his shoulder. He instinctually wraps his arms around her, and she rests her head against his shoulder, "Oh."

She sees what drew him outside: divine constellations littering the night sky, like tiny bits of luminous stone against a dark backdrop. She finds herself entranced by it, stunned into silence by its dizzying displays of cosmic wonder. She sighs, feeling Link's heartbeat steady under hers, as they both rest underneath the night sky.

She points, her index finger following a trail of stars, "That constellation there is called the Sheikah's Eye," she babbles to fill the silence, and she gestures just to the right of it, "That one there is the Mask of Majora, made up of Skull Kid Major and Skull Kid Minor," her hand sweeps across the night sky, "That star right there – well, not a star, it's actually a planet – that's Ruto. And just over there, you might be able to see it before it goes behind the mountain," she leans into Link, pointing just to the peak of Mount Lanayru, "That's the planet Saria. By this summer, both those planets will transition from evening stars to morning stars."

She feels more than hears Link laugh next to her – feels the way his chest vibrates in his rich tenor. It makes her heart clench; she can't remember the last time she heard him laugh, "What's so funny?"

"When I was alone," he uses this term to refer to when he was freeing the Divine Beasts, "I used to look up at the night sky, and I had my own names for the stars and constellations," he points to the Sheikah's Eye, "That one right there I named The Unblinking Bitch," at this, Zelda can't help but giggle against his chest, "That one there: The Drifting Seas," he points up to Ruta, "That one there I named Hylia, for she was always watching me," he gestures to Saria, "And that one there, 'Zelda'," he nuzzles her cheek, "For always setting just beyond the Spring of Wisdom."

"We might have different names for them," Zelda begins, her thumb rubbing against his chest, "But the stars and the planets – they're the same ones from before. From when we…"

"I know."

They drift into a thick silence, as they both watch the planets drift through the sky above them. This has been the most he has spoken to her about mundane things in weeks. It's refreshing, but at the same time, it aches. It feels like before, but she knows the moment is fleeting. It's only a couple of minutes until Saria/Zelda sets beneath the peak of Mount Lanayru, and for a moment, everything is peaceful.

Link breaks the silence, his voice just barely carrying, "After facing a demon, when does the nightmare end?"

Zelda is frozen, her mind calculating as she figures out how to answer him without him shutting down again. Link is seldom to ever speak of his nightmares, let alone acknowledge them. Link brought it up – he _never_ brings it up.

She takes too long, and he takes that as a sign to continue, "How have you been able to move on so quickly? How are you able to close your eyes so easily, knowing that your dreams won't haunt you?"

"I would be lying if I said they didn't," she whispers, stretching her neck to look at him. He's adamantly looking away from her and she feels her stomach drop, "Everyone copes with trauma differently."

His mouth clamps shut in a firm line, and she knows she's hit a nerve. That same desperation claws deep within her, and she doesn't want the conversation to end, "I wish you would talk to me more."

"Sorry," he whispers, and somehow, that's worse.

She feels her chest shake, a sob lodged just within it, but she pushes it down, as she always does. She feels hopeless – she has no idea what to say or how to make things better. She wants to curl up in a ball and cry and mourn for her knight – her Hero – who may as well have died one hundred years ago. All that remains is his shell, a mere shadow of his former self.

She has no idea how to bring him back.

She begins moving before she's formulated the thought. She needs to be alone, and she begins fantasizing about leaving for Kakariko for a week. She's thought about it before, and the thought is both relieving and deceitful. Maybe it would do them both some good, to separate for a while. It would give him time to work things out for himself. It would give her the chance to breathe, to soak in sunshine for the first time in months. Yet, she never goes through with it.

She's loath to think what she would return to if she left him alone. The thought of leaving him feels more permanent than she can imagine.

So she settles for their bed. He won't follow her, she knows, and there she can cry and mourn – pretend the cold space behind her is her long lost companion. When was the last time he had looked at her, had held her, had kissed her like he meant it?

The ghost of his lips on hers is enough to spring tears to her eyes.

"Wait," his voice is a mere whisper, and she's convinced that she imagined it, "Stay. Please."

She tilts her head just so, her eyes meeting his, "Link…"

"Please," he whispers, and she swears, his eyes glisten with unshed tears, "I'm sorry."

It's the same phrase, just one extra word, but it means something different. It's an apology, not an excuse. She lets out the breath she had been holding and lies back down next to him, placing her head on his shoulder. His hand comes to rest at the small of her back, yet somehow, it feels colder.

She doesn't know how much longer she can continue on like this.

She ignores the teardrop that lands on her forehead, and pretends that she doesn't feel the way his chest shudders with suppressed sobs. He's probably pretending the same for her.

In a moment of bravery, she speaks her thoughts, "I don't know how much longer I can handle this."

"I know."

They're silent for a moment longer, and she feels it just in the pit of her stomach: despair. Is this how it all ends? With two souls, desperately trying to connect on different planes? She misses him, and he doesn't know how to miss her. It's been so long now, that the unspoken truth between them… it's evident that his memories are never coming back. The man she fell in love with… is never coming back. She stifles that thought for a moment, but it's still there, festering and multiplying.

"I wish you would tell me what you dream about."

He's silent for a long moment, his muscles tensing up next to her. She knows he won't answer – he never answers her. So then it comes as a surprise to her when she hears him whisper.

"You."

She thinks she's imagined it. She's fabricated so many conversations with him in her head over the last few months – to cope with the fact that he's no longer present. She thinks maybe she did it again.

She rephrases the question, "I mean, I wish you would tell me what your nightmares are about."

The fingers placed just under her chin shock her, as they tilt it up towards him. She sees his deep blue eyes for what feels like the first time in months. They're hallow, though, and she feels his warm breath on her lips as he whispers again, "You."

"I don't understand," she whispers, and he adverts his gaze once more, his expression hard, "Tell me," she begs, desperate for him not to shut her out again, "Help me understand. What can I do?"

"There's nothing _to_ do," he hisses, his grip on her tightening as his eyes drift upwards towards the Mask of Majoras, "Every night, I fall asleep, and I watch you die. Every night, I fall asleep, and I'm too late. Every night, I fall asleep, and you're gone. I dream of you, but I never _remember_ you. I wake up, and you're here, but…" his eyes screw shut, and she feels his fingers dig into her back, "…you're not."

"Your memories," she whispers, and he nods, a lone tear trailing down his cheek, "You don't remember how to love me."

"I'm trying," he whispers, and for a moment her soul soars, "But I look at you, and I feel..."

He doesn't finish the sentence.

She feels the tears spring to her eyes, and before she can speak, he interrupts her, "You've thought about leaving." It's not a question, just a statement of fact. He knows.

"I don't want to," she whispers, her chest now shuddering and her tears staining his shirt, "I can't stand to see you like this," she feels him stiffen and she backtracks, "It's not your fault, I know that. Everyone deals with trauma differently, but… I miss you. It feels like I've lost you and I don't know how to get you back. I don't know what to do."

They're silent for a very long time after that. He knows, and she knows. It's a vicious cycle, and she knows that. Something's gotta give, and she's afraid of what that will be.

"I wish I could remember for you," he whispers.

"Link, I –"

"I'll try to do better," Link grits, and she knows that going to lead to the end of the line.

"No, Link – I just –" she sighs, wrapping her arm around him, "I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you."

"Maybe you should," he whispers, and it's like he has slapped her, "I know this isn't the life you envisioned for yourself."

"I never envisioned a life without you," she whispers back, her fingertips trailing along his chest, "And yet it seems to have become my reality."

They're silent for a moment longer, both of them desperately reaching out yet falling short. With each passing second, she feels him drifting away, but this time, it feels permanent.

"Are…" she struggles to say the words, "Are we gonna be okay?"

He doesn't answer her for a very long time, and when he does, he looks at her – really looks at her.

"I don't know."

The sun begins to rise.

**Author's Note:**

> Things just aren't the same after one hundred years. I wasn't planning on this to be as heartbreaking as it was. Some words said – a lot of things left unsaid. How do you move on when you're stuck in the past? How do you move on when you can't remember?
> 
> I practiced present tense in this short story, which is something I NEVER use but LOVE to read. About halfway through, I unconsciously shifted back into past tense, so I had to change every sentence.
> 
> This feels sadder than anything I've written. Let me know your thoughts? I experimented with some concepts in this story, let me know if they hit home?
> 
> Also, if you haven't already, you should follow me on tumblr [here](https://dontwaitupxx.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
